Play Date
by Golden Snitch1981
Summary: What if Dudley Dursley and Hermione Granger had met before Harry went to Hogwarts? What if Harry had met his friend earlier?


A sour-faced boy cringed in the chair, waiting for the dentist to see to his rotting teeth. The boy had only been to see the dentist once in his life, after being on the wrong end of a fit of accidental magic. That time, his mother had an extraordinarily difficult time scrounging for an explanation that wouldn't lead to more questions about the other child she'd been burdened with raising. The less people knew about the whole situation and the small boy who slept in the cupboard under the stairs, the better. For all of those involved, Petunia thought, it was for the best. That wretched child had responded to some innocent taunting with a tantrum of freakish sorts, resulting in Dudley's teeth mysteriously cracking and breaking off.

The amount of sweets that the boy consumed didn't contribute in a beneficial way, yet it broke his parents' hearts to say no to him. In fact, they found it hard to say no to anything, concerning their "ickle Dudderkins".

Fortunately, this visit was not due to the strange boy who lived under the stairs. Unfortunately, though, Dudley's love for sweets had finally caught up to him.

The dentist, a wiry woman with wild bushy curls, looked at the boy's mouth in a mixture of amazement and horror. She had never seen so many cavities in a child of his age. Her daughter was around the same age as the boy who was sitting in the chair, and she could never imagine her little girl having teeth this bad.

Thinking of her little girl, who spent all her time alone with head in a book, the young dentist had an idea.

"I have a little girl, about Dudley's age," she said. "Perhaps, Mrs. Dursley, young Dudley would like to have a guest over for the day – you know, like a play-date – you'd be good company for her I'm sure." Dudley seemed like a pleasant child, a little spoiled, but nevertheless someone who could divert Hermione's attention away from her books for long enough to enjoy her childhood.

"I see no harm in that, Dr. Granger," Petunia agreed. Although this child seemed like a loner and she wondered what could possibly be wrong with the little girl, she told her self that having a dentist's child as a friend could have its perks. "How 'bout this weekend? Dudders is playing hi first game of soccer on Saturday morning, but the rest of the weekend he will be free."

"That sounds wonderfull! I shall bring Hermione over on Sunday. You'll have a lovely time, I'm sure," she directed those last words at Dudley.

"I'm sure," Dudley said with the slightest hint of sarcasm.

Then the dentist set to work on the boy's teeth.

That following Sunday morning, Dr. Granger, along with her husband, also a dentist, walked up to the Dursley's front door with a very shy seven-year-old girl with the same wild bushy hair and dreamy eyes that were deep in the memory of her latest favourite story. She walked at least five steps behind her parents.

'Who was the boy she was going to see? Would she like him? Would he like her? Would he be nice to her or would he be just like all the other who taunted her about her quiet nature and her obsession with books?' These questions circled around her mind. When the door opened, a small boy with glasses and a lightening scar on his forehead peered out at the three strangers who stood waiting to be let in.

"Hello, you must by Dudley," Hermione said politely, holding her hand out to the curious looking boy.

"Oh. No dear. You'd best stay away from that boy!" Petunia screeched as she appeared behind the boy. She stared in disgust at the bespectacled boy. "And where should you be, boy?"

"In the cupboard, out of sight, Aunt Petunia," he answered sadly. He opened the door to a broom cupboard, under the Dursley's stairs and disappeared inside it, closing the door. Hermione thought this was rather strange and decided she would ask Dudley about it later.

"Nothing but trouble, that child." The woman muttered under her breath. "'Don't know why we let him her stay here. Welcome!" Her expression brightened as she greeted her guests. "Dudley, come downstairs and great your guest!"

"Yes, Mother," came a voice from upstairs. "Coming!" a large boy bounded down the stairs, stopping to stomp a few times on the step above the tiny cupboard where the other boy had disappeared into.

"Hello," he greeted the girl on the doorstep. "Who is this, Mother?"

"Dudley, this is Hermione. She's come over to play for a little while." his mother said sweetly. "Perhaps you'd like to show her your room."

"Yes, Mother," he said obediently. "Follow me he called as he bounded back up the stairs, as fast as his heavy legs would take him.

Hermione hesitated before stepping into the house with the encouragement of her parents. She began to climb the stairs, careful not to disturb the poor boy underneath. When she entered the room, Dudley was setting up his Nintendo 64. He plugged in two controllers and loaded the game. He handed Hermione the second controller. It was then that he noticed the confused expression on Hermione's face.

"Haven't you ever seen one of these before?" he asked. Hermione shook her head. "Geez, what planet are you from?"

"The same one that you do," she retorted back.

"It's really quite simple, watch me first." Dudley said as he settled onto the floor and began to fiddle with the controller. A loud shooting game flashed onto the screen and Dudley became engrossed in it. Within seconds Hermione was bored and her eyes began to wonder around the room glimpsing several toy guns, cars, action figures – not much different to the Ken and Barbie dolls she had at home and rarely played with. Finally her eyes rested on the small bookcase in the corner. 'Finally, something worth doing, here,' she thought to herself as she ventured to wards it the take a closer look. There wasn't many books in his collection, a few Disney ones that she was familiar with – she hadn't read those since she was small. She ran her fingers along the spines of the books until she found one that looked interesting. It was a blue canvas covered book, thick with gold writing on the spine. "THE SWORD IN THE STONE," she read aloud. "What's this one about?" she asked.

"Dunno," Dudley answered, with his eyes glued to the large television screen. "It's some boring old story about some wimpy boy and a silly old wizard. Mother tried to read it to me once but I was so bored I fell asleep."

"May I have a read of it?" Hermione asked.

"Sure, you can keep it if you like." He answered, without a second thought.

"Thank you. How kind you are," she said and without hesitation she opened it up and began to read. She was so caught up in the story when Dudley was suddenly standing in front of her with the other controller.

"Would you like to have a turn, now?" he asked.

"No, that's okay. This book is really interesting."

Dudley threw the controller down and stomped his foot. "Fine, then! Read your book! I don't care! I'm having more fun playing without you anyway."

"That's fine with me, too. I've got better things to do than play your stupid game." Hermione retorted. Dudley snatched the book and threw it on the ground. He was not used to being ignored. "You're not a very nice host are you?

"Well you're not a very nice guest are you?" Dudley yelled back.

"Do you treat all of your guests this way?" she asked standing with her hands on her hips.

"Only the ones who ignore me." He replied.

"Well put your game away and we'll play something else. How about hide and seek?" she said.

"Nah, that's boring." Dudley rejected the idea.

"Well, what would you like to do?" she asked. This boy was proving to be very difficult to get along with.

Dudley then began to suggest games which involved torturing his poor cousin. Feeling sorry for the boy she rejected these ideas.

"What is that boy's story, anyway?" Hermione asked.

"Oh. _Him?_" Dudley answered. "That's my freak cousin. He lives here, too."

"What's his name?"

"Harry." Dudley spat his name like it was piece of dirt that was stuck to his tongue.

"Where are his parents?" she continued to ask questions.

"Died –In a car crash or something like that." Dudley explained, although clearly he wasn't interested in talking about hi mysterious cousin.

"How sad! Why is he in that little cupboard?" She had to ask that burning question.

"Oh, that's where he sleeps. It's better that way." He sighed. "Anyway, who cares. So you like to read a lot?"

"Yes, it is my favourite thing to do."

"Know any good stories?" he asked, knowing that if he was going to get anywhere today, he would have to accommodate the girl, at least for a while.

"Lots of them," she answered. "The one I'm reading at the moment is about a boy who is a wizard."

She began to relay the story she'd been reading. A tale about a boy wizard who was so powerful that he was the only one who survived a killing curse from a dark wizard named Voldemort.

"_There was a great war and every wizard was either for against the rise of dark magic. Many wizards and witches died, including the boy's parents. He was just one-year-old. When Voldemort tried to kill the boy, something strange happened and Voldemort hadn't been seen ever since. The witches and wizards all celebrated, believing Voldemort had been killed by this amazing boy. Some wizards weren't so sure that Voldemort was gone for good and he was sent away where Voldemort would never find him."_

Dudley stared wide eyed at the girl, who was engrossed in the re-telling of the story. "Who wrote that?" he asked, suddenly interested in every word Hermione was saying.

"The author is unknown." She answered.

"How strange – that someone could write something so brilliant and not want to take credit for it." Dudley wondered aloud.

Harry Potter stood outside Dudley's room, just out of view from his terrible cousin. He was in awe of the mousy hair girl who had been entertaining Dudley with a story. He was amazed that someone could tear his attention away from that silly loud game, long enough to listen to something intelligent.

As he listened to Hermione's story about the boy wizard, he had scenes flash before his eyes.

"_All that happened to the boy was that a scar, shaped like a lightening bolt…"_ he heard her say to a rather impressed Dudley.

Suddenly his own scar began to hurt. It often did that so he didn't think much of it. He hung on every word the little girl said, imagining that he was the boy in the story, he imagined his mother shielding a baby Harry from the snake-like man who'd just killed his father. A tear trickled down his cheek as he watched the evil wizard kill the boy's mother. It was all too familiar to him, for some strange reason. He too knew what it was like to lose his parents. He had no memory of them, or the car accident he was in, as a baby, which had killed them both. How he wished he had something of his mother's or his father's - a photo, a diary, something that gave Harry some clue about who they were. Even more he wished they were alive. Even dying along with them seemed more favourable than the dreary existence he was forced to endure.

When it was time for the little girl to leave with her parents, it saddened Harry to see her go. Her presence seemed to be the one ray of light in the darkness that was his life. With a blue hardcover book under her arm she followed her parents down the front path to their car.

That was the last time Hermione Granger ever visited Dudley.

Harry settled into a carriage on the Hogwarts express, with the tall red-haired boy who introduced himself as Ron. He was grateful that he'd run into the boy and his large family. He'd felt so silly asking the station master for directions to Platform 9 and ¾. He had just shown Harry a spell he'd learned, which resulted in turning his pet rat yellow.

"Are you practicing spells?" asked a shrill voiced at the door of the carriage. Harry looked up and saw a girl with bushy brown hair, standing, books hugged close to her chest. Somewhere in his mind he thought there was something familiar about the girl. 'Nah couldn't be,' he thought to himself.

"Hi. I'm Hermione Granger." She held out her hand. Harry shook it.

"I'm –," he began to introduce himself.

"You're Harry aren't you," she exclaimed in awe. "As in _the_ Harry Potter?"

He smiled. He hadn't quite got used to all the attention. "Just call me Harry."


End file.
